


love in the land of the living (things that last and things that come apart)

by klainelynch



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Grief/Mourning, I'm going very two cakes on this fic, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Dad, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, NaNoWriMo 2020, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, POV Iroh (Avatar), War, so here's another one of my takes on how Iroh became Iroh, until Bryke gives us the Iroh backstory we need and deserve it's up to the fandom to provide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27887419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klainelynch/pseuds/klainelynch
Summary: Iroh was almost a teacher so many times that he just assumed he would do well in the role. By the time his nephew needed his help with firebending, he realized that he didn’t know the first thing about teaching others.
Relationships: Azulon & Iroh (Avatar), Iroh & Lu Ten, Iroh & Ozai (Avatar), Iroh & Piandao (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 64





	love in the land of the living (things that last and things that come apart)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first of several works that I wrote during NaNoWriMo 2020. I hope you enjoy it :)

i.

Iroh's baby brother was born under a midday sun.

The Fire Sages assured their Fire Lord that this was a sign not only of his second son’s imminent power, but of a blessing upon the entire family. Iroh was old enough to realize how shameless the pandering was, but they weren’t wrong. Ozai grew to become just as talented of a firebender as Iroh had been at his age. Though they received much of their instruction from the Fire Sages, their father made sure to personally train them as well, not out of a sense of paternal love, but of a need to shape and control his legacy, and he was quick to compare his sons. Every time Ozai reached a milestone, it was praised or frowned upon depending on how quickly Iroh had reached the same point in his training.

Iroh wasn’t offended by his father’s teaching style. He had been measured against the progress of Father as a boy, and learned to take the comparisons in stride. It was simply the nature of their situation as the royal family, and the love that their father showed, while not warm, was genuine in its own way.

But Ozai never seemed to grasp that. Maybe he never had a chance— being compared to a brother with a mere ten years on him must have been more difficult than being compared to a father with a more distant forty; either way, his frustration at the endless comparisons grew to an ever present rage by the time he was fifteen. Their father encouraged it, for every time Ozai threw a chair across the room or allowed his flame to burn anyone within a dozen feet, his firebending grew stronger, and Fire Lord Azulon’s sons were not allowed to be anything other than the strongest benders in their nation.

The scope of that rage, though.

Iroh had seen his brother threaten the servants for infractions as minor as a dish that wasn’t seasoned enough, and taunt them with the mistake even months later. The turtle ducks knew to fly away when Ozai walked by because he had burned too many of them for it to be an accident. Iroh himself had been subject to more than one of Ozai’s temper tantrums when he lost to his older brother in a simple game of Pai Sho.

There were times when Iroh thought about taking Ozai under his wing. He was a smart kid, always at the top of his class, and Iroh knew it couldn’t have been easy living in his shadow. But the few times when he tried to express that sympathy or offered to teach Ozai how to perfect a kata that was giving him trouble always ended in a screaming match.

Eventually, it was easier to just give up.

  
  


ii.

Iroh's son wasn't a firebender.

When Natsumi first told him that she was pregnant, visions of charging into battle with his son by his side flooded into his mind. They would create firebending moves that had never been seen before, and use their power to eliminate entire legions of earthbenders. His father had taught him how to firebend, and he would do the same for his son, passing on the lessons handed down through the generations of their family, as well as those he learned from the dragons he was supposed to have killed.

After Lu Ten was born and washed up, the Fire Sages performed the breath test. The tinder under Lu Ten's nose didn't immediately catch flames like it had for his father, but said father wasn't worried. It took some children months or even years before their abilities appeared. The Fire Lord wasn't pleased by this setback, of course. But there was nothing he could do about it.

As the years passed, and it became apparent that no amount of waiting would manifest fire in Lu Ten's veins, Iroh expected to be disappointed. He wasn't. His son was bright, and caring, and was always overjoyed to see his father when he was able to be away from the front lines. Even losing Natsumi didn't smother his optimistic nature; the experience drew them closer than Iroh could have ever imagined.

During that first summer after Natsumi’s death, they must have gone to Ember Island five or six times. There was something about that house, a place that felt removed from the rest of the world, that made it easy to talk about the hurt. You couldn’t do that in the palace. Iroh never had to tell Lu Ten to keep his emotions close for his own safety. There were too many people willing to use that weakness against them, and Iroh did his best not to contemplate how many supposed allies were included in that number. But Ember Island was different. It was just them, and it was okay to stay in bed until almost noon, or freeze up while preparing her favorite noodle soup, or have to leave in the middle of whatever nonsense the Players were performing because it reminded them of an old inside joke.

What ended up being the last trip that summer was the only one where they weren’t alone. Ursa asked if he would like some company; Iroh was surprised, relieved, and then angered when Ozai didn’t want to join his wife and five-month-old son. He didn’t understand how precious this time with family was.

“I’m proud of how strong you’ve been for him,” Ursa said, nodding to Lu Ten as he played with Zuko on the blanket in the living room. His nephew would be crawling any day now, and Lu Ten was determined to be there when it happened.

Iroh closed his eyes and exhaled a shaky breath. “Half the time I think it should have been me— things might have been easier on him if it had been.” He felt Ursa’s hand on his and opened his eyes. Her intense gaze was even more pronounced given how calmly she usually held her face.

“I understand you mean well— Natsumi’s love was a rare thing, and I still look to her as the example of how to be a mother in the palace,” she said. “But don’t discount your own worth. You do a disservice to you _and_ Lu Ten.”

“I know, really I do. It’s just hard, Ursa. I’m leaving for the front again next year, and I can’t help but feel like I’ve left him with nothing.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Iroh I know.”

Iroh started to reply, though as he opened his mouth he wasn’t sure if he wanted to disagree with her or not, but they were both distracted by Lu Ten’s call of, “Look, Aunt Ursa! He’s doing it!”

They scrambled over to Lu Ten and Zuko, who was pushing himself up with his arms and sort of dragging himself towards his cousin. It wasn’t crawling, but it was closer than he’d ever come.

“He’s almost there, and so early,” Iroh said. “He wants to be able to keep up with you, Lu Ten.”

“He can do it,” his son replied, and the confidence in his voice wouldn’t have been out of place coming from one of Iroh’s colonels.

Later, once their children were in bed, Ursa picked the conversation back up where they had left it. “Your son wants to help others. He wants to be a leader. Just because he isn’t a firebender doesn’t mean he can’t do those things.”

A plan slowly started coming together in his mind. It would take a delicate hand, and a fair bit of luck, but if it worked, he would fulfill his dreams of fighting with his son by his side.

“I think I could talk to my father about this.”

“Now _that_ sounds like the Iroh I know,” she replied with a smile.

  
  


iii.

Iroh's plan wouldn't work if he showed even a hint of uncertainty.

"My son needs to be trained to fight," Iroh said to his father. "He may not be a firebender, but he is still capable and more than willing to defend our beloved nation."

Fire Lord Azulon steepled his fingers. To most outsiders, his expression would have been one of annoyance, but Iroh knew his father better than that. He didn't like to admit defeat, and the son of his heir not being a firebender had the potential to dismantle their entire argument for the Fire Nation's superiority. He wanted a way out and trusted his son to give him one.

"What do you suggest, Prince Iroh?"

"Allow him to train with a swordmaster," he said at once. He had practiced the words a thousand times, and was pleased when they didn't fail him. "Our nation has a rich history of the sword and other such weapons, and reminding the people that there is more than one way to serve their nation will renew their fervor and inspire many to be a part of this righteous fight."

The smallest smile appeared on the Fire Lord's face, and Iroh struggled to keep his own face neutral.

  
  


iv.

Iroh's son was a natural with every sword Master Piandao put into his hands.

While not entirely surprised, he was relieved that this ended up being the case. It had been hard, much harder than he had anticipated it would be, to convince his old friend to take on Lu Ten as a student.

"I left the army because I no longer believe in that fight, and now you want me to train the person who will one day continue that fight?"

Piandao’s gaze pierced Iroh clean through, and he scolded himself for forgetting the power of that look. Under its effects, Iroh remembered the many generals who had faltered under it; some of those generals were even their enemies.

"I understand your hesitation, and your moral opposition," he said, choosing his words carefully. "And if that is your decision, I will respect it. But I hope you will consider this to be less of a military investment and more of an aid to an old friend, who, if memory serves correctly, still has a favor to call upon from the time he saved your neck in Gaipan."

Piandao laughed so hard that he had to hold onto his door frame for support. "I think all of that tea has finally gotten to your head if you think I couldn't have made my way out of that ambush without your help."

Iroh bowed, and brought his son the next day. They did not tell Fire Lord Azulon who would be training his grandson; that had been Piandao's only request.

"I am training the son of Iroh, not Prince Iroh," he said as stole his rose tile. The Pai Sho game had been Iroh's suggestion, a way for them to work out the details of this little arrangement and not worry about how long the conversation lasted. Iroh smiled and plotted the next three moves, which would allow him to block Piandao's main shot at victory.

For the first week of Lu Ten's training, Iroh's presence was strictly forbidden. Though he understood Piandao’s reasoning, he still wished that he could have been there to watch his son learn and grow. More than anything, he wished _he_ had the right knowledge to pass on to him, but Iroh knew nothing of weapons, having relied on his firebending his entire life. To study under a renowned master was an honorable thing, and Iroh was proud of his son; he simply wished that he had been that master.

After that first week, Lu Ten was allowed to return home for a few days' rest. He spoke of nothing other than his training, and the bizarre exercises that the Master put him through. Iroh offered no judgments on his friend's teaching style when Lu Ten asked for them. Instead, he simply asked what he learned from that exercise, and though it took him aback every time, Lu Ten always came up with a thoughtful answer.

"You know what, Dad? I think Master Piandao is a pretty good teacher."

Iroh hugged his son close and kissed the top of his head. It was their last night together for a month, and Iroh had promised that they could stay awake until the last embers of their fireplace died down. There was no way to prove Lu Ten's suspicion that his father was nudging them back to life to extend the evening.

When Iroh was finally allowed to watch Lu Ten's progress, he realized just how worried he had been. He believed in his son and in his friend, but this had all been at his suggestion, and if it had blown up, the shame would have been laid at his feet. As Lu Ten swung the jian and hit Piandao for the third time, Iroh realized how light his shoulders felt. Reading about his son's progress in Piandao’s letters wasn't the same as seeing it himself.

Lu Ten twirled the sword in his hands and planted his feet. "C'mon, Master, is that all you got?"

Piandao smirked, and before Iroh could even blink, he had disarmed Lu Ten and was pointing both swords at him. "No, but I'll teach you those moves someday."

"It will be my honor to one day learn the moves that bested me on this day," Lu Ten laughed, bowing as he did so. Piandao nodded, and Lu Ten immediately ran to Iroh's side.

"Dad! Did you see that?"

"I did," Iroh said as he engulfed his son in a hug. "Your studies have paid off, and I am so proud of you."

He smiled and looked away. "Master Piandao’s a very wise teacher. But I'm glad to be coming home for awhile."

Iroh could tell that he had more to say, but Lu Ten waited until the carriage was nearly home before confessing: "Master Piandao keeps talking about prioritizing the sword as a defense and not seeking out a fight. I think he's right about most things, but I know he's wrong about this. I can't wait until I can fight with you in the Earth Kingdom."

Hugging his son close, Iroh whispered, "I agree."

  
  


v.

Iroh's son was dead.

In the end, it hadn't mattered that Lu Ten was a master of five different types of swords and a near master of a dozen others, or that Iroh had gotten closer to taking Ba Sing Se than any other commander in history, or that they believed their cause to be a righteous one. What mattered was a single earthbender who got close enough to take a lucky shot. What mattered was a single fight that lasted less than a minute and took Lu Ten's life.

Though the history books would claim that Iroh called off the siege after 600 days, it wasn't strictly the truth. His second-in-command had asked him, point blank, what his orders were. Iroh remembered looking at him, but not seeing him.

"We have to go home," he said, again and again and again and again and—

"Sir, I am hearing a command that we pull out of Ba Sing Se. If that is your wish, I need verbal confirmation of your order." His words were direct, but his tone was much softer than one might expect from the man who had worked to bring down the largest city in the world for the past two years. 

Iroh nodded and whispered his yes.

It had taken them two years to get this far into the Outer Wall; it took the army less than two weeks to remove every last shred of evidence that they had ever been there at all.

It took Iroh much longer than that to make his own way back home.

  
  


vi.

Iroh's nephew needed a firebending teacher, and Iroh needed a distraction from the darkness that loomed over his entire being.

The journey to the Spirit World had helped. It had given him answers, even if they weren't the ones he wanted or needed. Knowing that there was no way to recover his son gave him a twisted sort of peace. As painful as it was, he had to figure out how to live his life without Lu Ten. He needed a distraction, or something that he could control, or someone that he _could_ help.

Later, Iroh couldn't remember the moment he learned that the throne was no longer his. He remembered the visions of Fire Lord Iroh disappearing, and he remembered the emptiness of his room that last night on the ship before they reached Fire Nation waters, but the exact moment of hearing the phrase “Fire Lord Ozai” was lost. If nothing else, Iroh wanted to shake the hand of the poor soldier who had given what could reasonably be assumed to be the worst news of his life to the man who presumed himself to be the most powerful person in the world. Of course, Iroh had already received the worst news possible, but there was no way for anyone who was not a father to understand that.

It took Iroh several days to settle into the palace. In that time, he didn't see Ozai once. That was fine with him.

Ozai's son was a different story.

Iroh had loved his time with his nephew, mostly over holidays and vacations, and he certainly treasured the boy as family. But those moments together paled in comparison to the time when he first returned to the palace. Zuko came by his room every day, often multiple times. At first it was just Pai Sho. Iroh offered a game, and Zuko seemed unable to say no, even though he lost every one. Then it was afternoon tea, followed by tsungi practice, and finally, Zuko mentioned that the Fire Lord was not pleased with his firebending.

Though he tried to say it nonchalantly, Iroh could tell that he had spent hours, maybe even days, practicing and preparing for this moment.

"And what do you think about your progress, Prince Zuko?"

Zuko stared at him as if he were speaking a different language. "I just told you, Father says my progress isn't where it should be. He always tells me when he and Azula reached each milestone, and I’m always way behind where they were.”

“We all learn at our own pace,” he said.

“It's not right for the Crown Prince to be anything other than the best,” Zuko replied, shaking his head. “Father just wants to help."

"Of course, and I understand the pressure you are under," he said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. "But a firebender should be the ultimate judge of his own progress, not anyone else. Your father is a very powerful bender, but he is not an expert on how every person should train." More than anyone else, Ozai should have known the dangers that came from pitting two siblings against one another. Why in the world he would have gone down this same path with his own children was beyond Iroh.

"I guess that makes sense," Zuko said in a way that made it clear that it didn't make sense to him at all. He moved his boat tile into a position that would have made for a very easy capture on Iroh's part; for once, he didn't take advantage of his nephew’s greenness.

"It seems to me that you need an outside perspective, someone new who can help you along your journey. If your father agrees, I would be honored to teach you some of what I know."

"Really, Uncle?" Zuko asked, and the naked hope on his face broke a part of Iroh's heart. He tucked that thought away to be unpacked at a later time. Now, all he could do was return his nephew's hug, and hope that he hadn't promised something which Ozai wouldn't allow.

  
  


vii.

Iroh's brother was not pleased.

"He is my son, not yours," he hissed. "Your son is dead, or have you forgotten?"

He took a deep breath in, and slowly exhaled. Ozai had never been particularly skilled when it came to insults, but this was one instance where his brute force was just as painful as a carefully woven jab.

"I have not forgotten, nor do I mean to claim him as such. But Prince Zuko is aware of your frustrations with his progress, and he is eager to do whatever he can to remedy them."

Ozai snorted. "He could stop being a miserable failure, for one."

"You don't mean that," Iroh said before he had a chance to decide if that was a good idea. He had a worrying suspicion that Ozai _did_ truly believe that, but he couldn't just listen to a father dismiss his young son so completely without saying anything.

"He is just now on his seventh form," he replied. "You and I achieved that milestone before our tenth birthdays. Azula achieved it two years ago at the age of _eight_ . The boy is almost _twelve_ , Iroh! Why would you call that anything except a failure?"

Iroh looked at his brother, really looked at him. He had all the power in the world, and yet he still wasn't satisfied. Was it because he couldn't control this one part of his life, or was that simply how he had always been, and Iroh had been blind to how deep that flaw truly ran?

"I understand that you want what is best for your son and for your legacy. I do not mean to undermine your authority, and I apologize for my careless words," he said, bowing to underscore the point. Pride was of little consequence to him at this point. "Like you, I just want to serve our great nation, and I had hoped that my knowledge gained from vanquishing the last dragons could be of use to the Crown Prince."

Ozai's eyes widened, and Iroh held his breath. The next moment would determine if he was successful or not.

"You did kill the last ones, didn't you?"

"Yes," he lied.

Sitting back in his chair, Ozai steepled his fingers. He was withholding his answer for dramatic effect, and Iroh was annoyed at how effective the tactic was. Finally, he spoke.

"Prince Zuko needs all the help he can get, and I don't think anything you teach him could make him worse than he already is. If you can stand to be around him for that long, I'll tell the Fire Sages to let you take over his lessons twice a week. We will review his progress in a month and decide if more intense intervention is necessary."

"Thank you, Fire Lord," he said, bowing lower than he ever had in his life.

"And Iroh?" his brother said as eyes remained fixed on the floor. "Don't forget your place in this family."

  
  


viii.

Iroh's lessons made it painfully obvious that he had never been a teacher before.

It had been decades since his own education at the hands of the Fire Sages and the Fire Lord, but for some reason, he had thought their lessons would come back to him as easily as his memories of those days. And if nothing else, he was a master firebender, one of only a few people who bore the title Dragon; he had more than enough knowledge to pass on to the next generation.

"Show me what you've been working on," he commanded.

Zuko took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was muttering something to himself, but Iroh couldn't hear what it was. After a few seconds, he crouched into a horse stance and brought his hands in front of his chest. The fireballs from his hands were small but controlled. He jumped up and ran a couple of steps before kicking out a flame from his right foot. The landing wasn't smooth, but he managed to stay upright. He repeated the process with his left foot, still barely managing the landing. Iroh thought that might be it, but he centered his arms one more time, and repeated the entire process on each side, only this time he tried to land in a half twist. He fell in both attempts.

"Ugh!"

Iroh was at his side, ready to help him up, but his nephew shooed him away.

"It took me so long to figure out how to do the jumps, and it's gonna take me even longer to add the twists that this kata asks for!"

"It's okay, Prince Zuko. We all have our strengths and weaknesses as firebenders, and it seems you've identified one of your trouble areas. We'll work on this move today, and then next time we'll refine one of your strengths."

He thought he heard Zuko mumble his disagreement about all firebenders having a weakness, but he didn't push the issue. His job was to help Zuko with firebending, nothing more.

Iroh went through the same movements as Zuko, even taking the time to center himself before beginning. It had been a long time since he had done such a simple version of this move that he wanted to make sure he was only doing the most basic steps.

The moment that Iroh landed the second set of kicks, Zuko said, “I want to try again.” He went through the same movements and achieved the same result.

Iroh shook his head. "Here, watch me closely this time."

Again, he performed the set perfectly. Again, Zuko fell on both kicks.

"I'm hopeless."

"No, of course you aren't hopeless." Iroh stroked his beard and tried to think. "You have to feel your momentum as you release your fire to make sure that you land upright." He started to center himself to demonstrate the kata again, but—

"How?"

"How, what?"

"How do you feel your momentum?"

Blinking, Iroh just stared at him. From another student, even another member of their family, the question would have been rude, but that didn't seem to be the case here. Zuko's eyebrows were knitted, and he was frowning, truly perplexed by the fundamental mindset necessary for this kata.

"You just feel the way your momentum moves with you and then you can land," Iroh tried.

Zuko crossed his arms and huffed. "I heard you say that, but you're not explaining _how_ you feel your momentum."

Now Iroh could feel his own frustration building. Was this what was causing the issues with the Fire Sages?

"I cannot teach you how to feel your own sense of self, nephew. It is something that you just know through study and practice."

"Well no one ever taught me!" Zuko threw his hands up and stormed away.

  
  


ix.

Iroh's old friend was giving him an unnecessarily hard time.

"What do you mean, you thought he would _just pick it up_ by watching you?"

Piandao's expression belonged to a man who had just stepped in komodo rhino dung. Such a look had never been directed towards Iroh, even after his fall from grace. He didn't care for it one bit.

"That's how I learned," he huffed. "My father showed me how to perform each kata, just as his own father had done. The repetition necessary to fully internalize each movement was done on my own, but otherwise it was a very straightforward education. Zuko is a rather different sort of child."

"He _is_ a child," Piandao said, "and one who has undergone much change in a very short amount of time. It would be enough to break any man, let alone a boy."

Iroh understood what he meant, but that wasn't it. Zuko's struggles with his firebending had started long before the loss of his mother and rise of his father; there was something inside of him that Iroh needed to understand in order to reach him.

"So tell me— how would _you_ teach a student such as Zuko?"

His tone was lighthearted, and if one heard a hint of sarcasm, they could be forgiven. Iroh knew that Piandao understood just how much he meant by the question, both in what he had said and in what he had left unsaid. Failure didn't come naturally to him, and failure had surrounded him for the last year. Iroh was desperate.

"The sword is a tool that students have to learn to view as a part of who they are. It is outside of them, but the ways of the sword, once internalized, are not easily forgotten," he finally replied. "It is not enough to simply wield a sword or any other weapon. You have to help them understand why and how each movement has its place. Once a teacher guides their student to this understanding, there is no holding them back."

"But how?"

"It is different for each student. For some, I can simply talk them through each movement as I demonstrate it; for others, the epiphany comes in a moment seemingly unrelated to our lessons. You cannot force it, Iroh: all you can do is seize the moment when it presents itself to you."

"I was afraid your answer would be as cryptic as you."

“I learned from the best,” Piandao said as he poured them both more tea.

  
  


x.

Iroh's nephew was smarter than most people realized.

Their first month of lessons had been a disaster. No matter how many times Iroh showed Zuko a kata, he was not able to translate the instinctual movements into words that made sense for the crown prince. No moment for epiphany had presented itself, as Piandao had insisted would be the case. If anything, his nephew was becoming less receptive to his lessons with each passing week. More than once, Zuko yelled at Iroh loud enough for passing servants to slow down and eavesdrop; Iroh watched them out of the corner of his eye as he took more deep breaths than he would have believed necessary for working with a child. 

He wondered when Ozai would put a stop to this experiment, but his brother seemed content to let it continue, seeing as his son wasn’t any worse with Iroh than he was with the Fire Sages. He also had a sneaking suspicion that Ozai would allow this to go on as long as it was clear that he was miserable. 

All of that changed when Iroh _finally_ realized what Zuko's problem was.

"So wait, all of these pieces actually mean something?"

Iroh's teacup was halfway to his lips, frozen in midair by Zuko's question.

"Of course, nephew. Did you think the designs were chosen at random?"

Zuko shrugged and moved his boat tile. "I figured whoever made this game just chose the pictures they liked the best. My history tutor makes me play with her every day because she says it will make me a better military leader, but she never explained any of this stuff before."

"So then how do you decide where to move your pieces?"

"I just try to stop you from creating your next harmony. Whenever I see an opening, I take it."

"And what about your own harmonies? How do you create your own winning strategy?"

"It doesn't matter if _I_ win as long as I stop _you_ from winning. I'm at a level where the best I can hope for is avoiding defeat." 

He said it so plainly that it broke Iroh's heart. No wonder he had trouble in his studies— he was being taught to believe that victory was never even a possibility for him.

"Perhaps I could teach you a few things about what some of these tiles mean."

"As long as it goes better than your firebending lessons," Zuko said, but he was smiling.

Iroh grabbed a juniper tile from his bag and held it up.

"What is the purpose of this tile?"

"It allows you to capture an enemy tile, right?"

"And why is that?"

"That's what the rules say."

"But _why_ do the rules say that?"

Iroh gave him a few seconds to think before answering his own question.

"The juniper tile should make you think about the roots of the actual plant. Unlike most of the plants featured on these tiles, juniper’s roots extend far beyond their surface reach, sometimes as wide as ten feet, which allows them to sap resources from other plants without being close enough for retaliation. So I want you to think: where would you place this tile if you were me?"

Zuko scrunched his eyebrows and thought. He wordlessly reached for the tile and fiddled with it in his hand as he looked around the half-full board.

"Normally, I would say to put it here because your rhododendron tile is a dangerous harmony for me, but I think your opponent would notice that and try to get rid of it. But if you put it here," he said, hovering over a section on the opposite side of the board, "you would take out my white lily harmony, which would annoy me, but I wouldn't pay attention to how easy it would be to build a bridge to the rest of my harmonies." He looked up at Iroh, who nodded once. Zuko's face broke out into a giant grin as he placed the tile, not even caring that he had wrecked his entire strategy of this particular game.

"And if I were to tell you that the air tile is, in some variations called the wheel tile, how would that change your game?”

“I would know exactly how to move the pieces around,” he replied at once. “I know you can use that tile to rotate everyone’s pieces on the board, but it’s hard to picture what that will look like in my head and if it’s a good idea.”

“Use the image to help you,” Iroh said. “How many spokes are there?”

“Eight.”

“So decide which area of the board is least advantageous for you, or most advantageous for me. Where would sowing chaos best serve you?”

It was several long minutes of Zuko studying and picking up tiles before replacing them, but finally, he laid down the air tile in the exact location that Iroh would have selected.

“Nephew, I think our next firebending lesson will go much better.”

  
  


xi.

Iroh's patience was finally paying off.

"I think I've got it, Uncle."

"Those words will be your downfall. Don't tell me "I think." Does a bird think that he can fly, or does he know? _I_ know that you have it, but until _you_ know this, you do not have it at all."

"Huh?"

"Again. Show me the kata again." Iroh's voice was stern, but the directness had worked with Zuko on the first kata, and he believed it would work again with this new one. He only hoped that Zuko knew his sternness came from a place of caring.

Zuko breathed in and centered himself once more. He stepped forward, then back, and then forward. As he brought his hands to his chest, the flames appeared in his hands. He sent out a few short bursts, then brought them back to his chest.

"Why was that movement necessary?" Iroh asked.

"My chi needs to be activated. I cannot extend beyond myself if my chi is cool."

"Good. Continue."

He performed the next few steps of the kata, and as Iroh asked him for the reasoning behind each step, he responded immediately. The words were not his own; Iroh had broken down each movement of this new kata for him as he demonstrated the steps, but he could hear in Zuko's voice just how much he understood what he was saying. All that was left was for Zuko to understand his own power.

Meanwhile, Zuko was centering himself for the last move of this kata. He bent his knees and thrust himself up into the air, higher than what had been expected from the last kata, all while sending a stream of fire from both feet as he spun around and landed perfectly. He used his momentum to shoot another stream from his right arm, and then kicked back even more fire with his left.

Before Iroh could even ask, Zuko said, "No opponent can safely come within the range of my fire. I have taken away their attack with my own."

"Very good, nephew," he said, smiling at last. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Uncle," Zuko said, and Iroh believed him. He was prepared to offer Zuko a celebratory trip down to the local market where they could indulge in the wide range of mochi sold there; he was not prepared for arms wrapped around his waist and a quiet thank you.

"You're very welcome, Prince Zuko, but you did all of the hard work yourself. All I did was guide you along your way."

"Trust me, you're the best teacher I've ever had," he said, looking up at him with bright eyes. "You didn’t have to yell at me or anything! It usually takes the Fire Sages several lines before I get something as complicated as that."

"Lines?" Iroh asked. He wasn't sure what that meant, but a pit had settled in his stomach.

"You know, the lines that appear after someone holds onto you with a flaming palm. Sometimes I can get it after one or two fingers, but usually it takes the entire hand. But you’re such a good teacher that you figured out how to help me without that!"

He smiled, seemingly unaware of the horror spewing from his mouth. The pain that was as ordinary as breathing.

Iroh did his best to return Zuko's smile, and couldn’t find it in himself to refuse any of Zuko’s requests at the market.

  
  


xii.

Iroh's nephew was burning, terrified and alone on that Agni Kai platform, and he hadn't done enough to save him.

**Author's Note:**

> Was all of section viii an outlet for me to channel my frustration regarding people who think that just because they know a lot about a subject, that automatically makes them a good teacher in that subject? Maybe. Was Iroh trying to explain how you feel your momentum directly inspired by Schitt’s Creek [“Fold in the Cheese”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NywzrUJnmTo) scene? Absolutely.
> 
> Also, Bryke really should have made up some official rules for Pai Sho in their series bible so that I can easily write the game-to-character metaphors that my wildly self-indulgent fanfiction calls for. Since they haven’t done that yet, I have to resort to [wikihow articles](https://www.wikihow.com/Play-the-Ancient-Game-of-Pai-Sho) and [other resources](http://paisho.pbworks.com/w/page/24174526/Wiki%20Pai%20Sho) and extrapolate my own ideas from that smh
> 
> Title is a mashup of lyrics from Rush’s “Secret Touch.”
> 
> Kudos, comments, and transformative works are always appreciated.
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [klainelynch](https://klainelynch.tumblr.com/)
> 
> ALSO I'm sorry to derail the entire emotional arc of my fic with my endless notes, but there was a sizable portion of my soul that wanted to make this my entire summary and I just wanted y'all to know that
> 
> [](https://imgflip.com/i/4p6uko)  
> 
> 
> [from Imgflip Meme Generator](https://imgflip.com/memegenerator)  
> 


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